


To Be or Not To Be

by TheRealAK47



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10025432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealAK47/pseuds/TheRealAK47
Summary: The events of the previous three stories, up to and including, resolution to the dilemma posed at the end of ‘Two Lines’, as told from Rick’s POV.





	

                She woke up screaming for the third time this week.

                While this only minimally impacted my own rest due to the nocturnal hours I often kept, I couldn’t help but start to be concerned. Caring about another was something that still felt foreign to me. I mean, before I met her, the only people who evoked any worry from me were my daughter and grandkids. I suppose at one point I cared greatly for my first wife, but the mess of that relationship only served to drive my feelings further and further into a comfortable pit in my heart. I filled the void left behind with alcohol and space travel, being careful to never get too attached to anyone. I grew comfortable in the identity of being an asshole.

                Then I met her.

 

                I’m still not sure how to explain what happened. Come on, I can build a machine that can travel through dimensions but I don’t know the rhyme or reason behind that strong emotion I was struck with upon seeing her. I had long forgotten what it felt like, and was unsure if I had really ever felt it before.

                I first saw her working at the university’s library. Through pseudo-legal means, I had procured a faculty ID that allowed me to use the school’s resources, including the extensive collection of scientific works. A lot of it was bullshit, but once in awhile, I’d stumble upon something that would further my progress on an invention. Which was what I was doing when she walked by.

                It wasn’t the instant reaction of lust or desire that I experienced. She was very pretty, yes, in a conservative-but-hot way. Maybe it was the whole librarian get-up, I don’t know. But my first thought wasn’t to bend her over the stack of books she was re-shelving. No, my first thought was of- curiosity. Now, I had been with members of almost every gender and species that one could imagine, so why was a human girl drawing me in this way? She was attractive, but after almost sixty years, I had certainly seen the gambit of attractive people in various parts of time and space. I think what first caught my attention wasn’t the shape of her body, but rather the quiet defiance in her eyes, partially obscured by glasses. Through all of this, I don’t think she noticed me that first time. Maybe wondered what the blue-haired weirdo was doing, but if that was the case, she’s never said as much.

                So I started making excuses to come back. After the fourth or fifth time of wandering the vast array of books for no reason, I had to break the silence and stop the charade. I knew that there was a good chance that this young girl would have no interest in an alcoholic man twice her age, but I’m Rick Sanchez. I’ve never met a being I was too shy to approach.

                I don’t really remember our first conversation much except that to my relief, she was receptive to meeting me after she was done work. I could feel my heart soar at her acceptance, a feeling I thought was some ancient relic of human experience that I would never feel again.

                I guess things progressed from there. I had no idea how far deep I had gotten myself until after about six months of dating- monogamous dating, at that- the words, ‘I love you’ slipped out of my mouth. If Birdperson was still around, he would have never let me live that down, after all the teasing I had thrown his way about being a stupid romantic. This love business was never part of my plan. Love makes you weak, vulnerable, unguarded. I had watched my friends and family fall to its demise. With my past, both romantically and politically, I didn’t feel I could afford to put myself at the emotional mercy of someone else. What made this different, or at least what I told myself, was that she made me feel something I lacked my whole life.

                She made me feel safe.

 

                I was still living with Beth and the family during those early months of dating, but found myself rarely there. Summer had gone away to college, impressing us all when she got into UCLA. I always knew Summer was smarter than she let on- she took after her mother more than she’d ever admit. I was proud of her, but missed her companionship. We had started growing closer after Morty finally got over that Jessica chick and found himself a nice girlfriend, in addition to taking school more seriously in hopes he would get into college like his sister. Adventures with Grandpa Rick took far less of a priority in his life, and I understood. I remembered being their age.

                I tried to do the traditional thing and have my family meet my girlfriend and all that, but as anyone who knows the Smith-Sanchez family could probably predict, it didn’t go well. Morty kept stammering and blushing, which I guess was to be expected. Beth mostly kept quiet, but I could sense she was unnerved at the idea of her father dating someone younger than herself, his own daughter. And then there was Jerry. Fucking Jerry. The moron wouldn’t stop going on about me and my girlfriend’s age difference, making jokes of varying degrees of lameness. To her credit, she weathered those few meetings well, but I could tell everyone involved was uncomfortable, myself included.

                That following year, Morty got accepted into college- Washington State, which, while not as academically renowned as his sister’s school, was closer to home and probably a better fit for the kid than some prestigious university. With both grandkids gone most of the year now, there wasn’t much keeping me living with my daughter and her idiot. I won’t lie, the prospect of moving in with a woman again still terrified me- I hadn’t forgotten the mistakes I made the first time. But eventually the monotony of watching Beth and Jerry’s shitty marriage deteriorate daily without the reprieve of my grandkids helped me to force myself to swallow my fear and make the decision to live with my girlfriend.

 

                Until this last week or so, I must admit that I found myself rather enjoying doing the domestic living thing again, but with someone far more compatible. It really felt like a second chance, after how badly things ended between Beth’s mom and I. Not that I was fully to blame for the demise of that relationship, but in retrospect, I certainly could have handled things much better, especially for Beth’s sake. I’m still not sure how my daughter forgave me for how abruptly I left.

                There had been a couple hitches to our otherwise happy household when my least favorite interdimensional counterpart, Evil Rick, came for a ‘visit’. And by ‘visit’, I mean to say that he came and portalled into our house on several occasions to humiliate me and violate my girlfriend. I never asked after the fact, but a part of her seemed to enjoy the sadistic fuck. I don’t want to know. I was used to his violent kinks and at an earlier point of my life, enjoyed the power play we had.

                Well, I certainly didn’t enjoy it anymore. Of all the things he did to us, the worst was that he branded her with a scalpel in a show of power and control. Nothing I tried to concoct in our garage could fully fade the scars Evil Rick left. Disgust was a feeling very familiar to me, but I would certainly rank the sight of him abusing her thin body as one of the most revolting experiences I have had.

                After that particular incident, Evil Rick seemed satisfied that he had tormented us both enough- for now, anyway- and I found myself being able to start relaxing a little. Hell, I even learned how to cook some basic meals, a task I had previously always delegated to the women in my life. I don’t think most people enter the later years of their life prepared to change, or at least I certainly didn’t. To be honest, for some time I had the fear that all relationships had an end date and each day was closer to the clock running out on our happiness together, to be replaced by the hatred and violence I was used to happening with these things. While I was never a model husband, Beth’s mom grew from loving me, to tolerating me, to despising me and finally, to abusing me. Beating me. It sounds so pathetic, I know, but I couldn’t handle the abuse and one day, just left.

                Thankfully, that did not seem to be happening this time. Both being stoic people on the outside, we were able to bring out the compassionate side buried in each of us, out of each other. I never thought I would settle down again, but I enjoyed the perspective she brought to my life and my work. Despite not being a scientist like myself, she was incredibly bright, and although I’d be hard-pressed to admit it, learning more about the humanities and social sciences was benefitting my work. I hadn’t fallen into the rote expressions of stale relationships- when I kissed her, it was because I couldn’t contain myself not to, not because it was the thing to do before she left for work. Obviously I’m not expert on love, but whatever this was between her and I was something special. I had never felt accepted for who I was- well, other than Morty and Beth, but I mean in a romantic sense- and yet for some reason, despite knowing what a piece of shit I had been for most of my life, she loved me in return.

 

                Which made this week all the more confusing. Something is clearly consuming her dreams as well as her waking life. She thought she was being clever at hiding her unease, but it read plainly all over her face. I just couldn’t piece together what was causing sudden night terrors and constant trips to the bathroom. Perhaps some sort of PTSD response to the Evil Rick stuff, but wouldn’t that have manifested earlier than now? Tonight was Thursday, and with this 3 a.m. episode, I couldn’t just let this go anymore. She had stopped screaming but was now clinging to me, covered in sweat and silently crying.

                “Rick?” she whispered. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

                “I-I know,” I replied simply. Her eyes widened.

                “How did you find out?” There. Confirmation that my suspicions weren’t mere paranoia. I needed to tread carefully with my words if I hoped for any peaceful resolve.

                “Well, for st-starters, people don’t usually de-develop night terrors out of nowhere.” I searched her eyes for any indication of what was weighing so heavily on her. All I could see was fear. Why was she so frightened of me? Her lips opened and closed several times, as if she was trying to get the words out but couldn’t.

                “I’m not used to hiding stuff from you, Rick,” she said, visibly shaking. “But this is serious.”

                I scanned my mind for any reason that my girl, usually strong and determined, looked like a scared child. I took a deep breath as I asked the question I never wanted to vocalize.

                “Is-is it Evil Rick?” I asked flatly. Her face turned pallid.

                “No,” she replied quickly. “Well, kind of, I don’t know…” What? What kind of answer was that? She looked at me and I met her gaze as she looked down, raising an eyebrow.

                “What does _that_ mean?” I heard my voice start to rise in anger. ‘Keep it together, Sanchez,” I chided myself silently. She did the eyebrow gaze thing again, this time pointing to her stomach. I had seen this before- not from her, but many years ago…

                “Oh-oh, god,” I stuttered, feeling panic rise up into my throat. “You’re….y-you’re….well, well, y-you know…” I couldn’t say it. That would make all of this become very real. She closed her eyes and paused.

                “Yes, Rick,” she stammered, a few tears falling down onto her nightshirt. “I’m...pregnant.”

             

                 Pregnant. The word hit my body with a thud. Something more nefarious would have been easier to process. I had no idea how to feel. As it was, terror, joy and confusion were running through my nerves. I didn’t know how to respond, so I wrapped her in a hug, letting her sob into my chest. My mind went back nearly forty years to the last time I had had a similar conversation. I wasn’t going to be that callous asshole again.

                “Babe, I’m n-not mad.” I could feel the tension in her muscle release like I had just given her Valium. “I’m-I’m sorry you, you felt like y-you couldn’t tell me.” She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes.

                “It’s not that simple!” she exclaimed. “What do we do? I mean, what do we _do_?” I couldn’t tell if she was asking me or herself, as her crying had resumed.

                “Well, we have op-options,” I offered. Wrong choice of words.

                “I KNOW we have options.” She paused, breathing in deeply. “But what is the right one?” Her body started shaking again. “What if… what if it’s because of… you know…him?” I hadn’t considered that possibility in the flurry of emotion and thought that was presently overwhelming me. My stomach dropped.

                “Evil Rick, you mean.” A statement, not a question. She nodded.

                “I mean, this isn’t even some conventional shitshow of a situation. You have the same DNA! How will I ever know…I can’t….I don’t know…”. Her words trailed off into more sobbing.

                For how often I derided empathy as a virtue, I sure wished I had more of it in this moment. I wasn’t used to not having answers.

                “Just forget ab-about Evil Rick right now. It probably, h-has nothing to do with him. This is our situation, okay?” For the first time that night, she smiled a little.

                “Okay,” she replied. “But that still leaves the question of what we do.”

                “Y-you know what?” I asked. “We have time t-to decide where we, where we go from here. But r-right now, I think the best de-decision is for us to go back to bed. We can t-talk about this over breakfast t-tomorrow. Sound good, babe?”

                “Yeah, Rick,” she said softly. “That sounds good.”

                “Okay. N-now let’s get you some dry cl-clothes and back to bed you go.”

 

                  I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but at least she might be able to.    


End file.
